


Red Viper, Golden Lion

by flamearrow109



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamearrow109/pseuds/flamearrow109
Summary: Oh, of course he still wanted revenge against the Lannisters for what they’d done, but this - this was a different sort of revenge, Oberyn thought with a hint of satisfaction, rolling his hips into the smaller man’s and being rewarded with a low cry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I'm trash  
> take your 3000 word pwp   
> also holy hell the tags on this thing

_“I will be your champion.”_

Tyrion’s cell was dirty and smelly from days of pissing in a pot, but neither man seemed to care, the flickering torchlight illuminating the dwarf’s dirty face and slightly quizzical expression. Even after hearing Oberyn’s story, something didn’t seem to quite add up, not really. Nothing was for nothing, and although justice was all well and good, it didn’t explain why the older man had come here, to a dark and dingy cell far beneath the light of the city. Tyrion tucked his knees to his chest, trying not to allow the flutter of hope he felt to overtake him.

“What do you want?” he asked with a slight note of skepticism coloring his voice, eyes narrowing and chin resting atop his knees as he bent forward. The answer was unexpected, and, to be honest, probably the last thing he had expected to hear.

“I want _you._ ”

Tyrion only stared blankly, not quite understanding. Oberyn, meanwhile, chuckled softly at the little lion’s evident confusion.

“You’ve captured my interest, Tyrion Lannister. I would like to have you - if you are willing, of course.”

There was a small scoff from disbelieving lips. Then:

“You want to **fuck** _me_ \- the Imp? Forgive me if I find your jape rather difficult to believe.”

“Oh, it is no jape. I will still fight for you, whatever your answer. And you may trust that I will not force you - _I_ am not Gregor Clegane.” Oberyn’s gaze was dark as he, with the obvious height advantage, gazed down at the little man, whose pink tongue darted out to lick at dry lips. Tyrion gulped, feeling self-conscious for the first time in a long time. But he was almost instantly hard at Oberyn’s gaze, his cock thick and pressing painfully tight against the laces of his breeches. He had nothing to lose, he had not fucked or been fucked in quite a long time - and Oberyn’s proposition seemed quite favorable. So Tyrion accepted.

“Gods, yes.”

As he shifted in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension caused by his painful arousal, a wet spot began to form, with the older man’s eyes immediately drawn to it. With a grin, and a short, simple reply of “good,” Oberyn grabbed at Tyrion’s bulge roughly, mouth swiftly capturing any and all sounds the dwarf made. His hands roved, shoving aside the black jacket and fingers knotting in the fabric of the small man’s shirt; he tugged hard, lost in his passion and his need to be wrapped up in this little man who had captured his attention.

The material ripped and tore, with Tyrion's sounds of protest lost beneath Oberyn’s lips. He huffed slightly, with a roll of mismatched eyes - although really it wasn’t as if a mangled shirt mattered. Hasty hands pinched at exposed skin, yanking the clothes from the little lion’s cock and meeting it with a harsh squeeze that made Tyrion cry out. The Martell was kissing the Lannister thoroughly now, invading his mouth and hands roving across his small body.

These sensations crashed over the golden lion, too new and too fast - he groaned as he felt himself harden even more if it was possible, each noise swallowed by his new partner’s mouth and tongue. All too soon, though, Oberyn pulled away, delivering a stinging nip to Tyrion’s bottom lip; the dwarf did not protest, running his own tongue over the swollen flesh as he settled back.

He watched appreciatively each new inch of skin that appeared as the Dornishman stripped, all lean thighs and muscle while Tyrion was small and soft. The cock jutting out from between those thighs was of impressive size - Tyrion was larger, but then again, his was larger than most - and nestled within a thicket of dark hair. Gulping back his anticipation, the little lion man fell to his knees, paying no mind to the ache that burned as they made contact with the hard stone of the dungeon floor; he pressed the most fleeting and feathery of kisses to the head of Oberyn’s cock.

A pink tongue flitted out to swipe at the slit, interested eyes watching the Viper’s expression as slowly - ever so slowly - Tyrion took the man into his mouth, small fingers splayed across the warm skin of Oberyn’s thighs.

Gods, this little Lannister’s mouth was hot, and wet, and everything that the Dornish prince could have hoped for. Despite his cocky manner and overall demeanor, his hands flitted from the man’s back to his shoulders, almost uncertain of where they’d land, until finally settling on his head, fingers swiftly tangling in the little lion’s golden mane. Tyrion’s hair was softer than it looked, especially given he’d been locked up below ground for days; it had a springy curl to it now, which Oberyn found he liked as he gave the locks a gentle tug. He was immediately rewarded with a low moan, the noise reverberating around his cock in such a way that his mind was sent reeling.

For all that he claimed to have a voracious appetite for women, Tyrion certainly seemed to be skilled at sucking cock. His experienced tongue was tracing along the underside now, fingers working at the skin he hadn’t taken in yet; he was sitting back in a kneeling position, mouth full and looking wonderfully vulnerable. The Red Viper sighed at the little golden lion, a low noise that was met with an echoing groan.

Tyrion was taking more and more of him in now, his stubble scratching gently at Oberyn’s inner thighs; the Dornishman tugged gently on the golden curls in his grasp, delighting in each low moan he tore from the little man’s body as the Lannister’s eyes fell closed, his tongue flicking in gentle motions over the underside of the Viper’s cock. Oberyn could feel his climax rising with every second in Tyrion’s mouth, and pulled him close, pleasantly surprised when the little lion only reacted momentarily before adjusting to the new position. Tyrion’s mismatched eyes finally opened then, glancing up from beneath a tangled thicket of amber curls.

It was the flicker of those fascinating emerald and obsidian eyes that did it, unravelling Oberyn with a low moan as he emptied himself, effectively shutting Tyrion up, although not for long. To his credit, the dwarf didn’t cough, only wiping away a string of white as he sat back on his haunches, lips swollen and pupils blown wide. His little cock - although it really wasn’t little, not at all, standing larger than the Dornishman’s own - ached with an almost painful arousal, intense and needy. Silent and waiting to see what the older man would do next, he only sat there, his cheeks smeared with dirt and sticky remnants of cum. The image was enough to make Oberyn quickly hard once more, with Tyrion’s eyes dropping to the evident erection pointedly.

“The gods gave you this one gift, I suppose?” he asked with a small grin, wiping a hand across his face; the grubbiness he found there made him grimace, viewing what was smeared against his palm with slight distaste.

“Of course,” the Viper replied, all pointed teeth and smiles before he pounced - licking and sucking his way down the soft, exposed surface of Tyrion’s chest in a trail that was punctuated by small nibbles, pinches of sharp teeth on sensitive and vulnerable skin. The blond wiggled, breath becoming clumsy as hands buried themselves in Oberyn’s dark hair. The Dornishman’s fingers brushed against the little Lannister’s cock almost too lightly to feel, even as he yanked the breeches farther down the man’s legs, and Tyrion huffed slightly in frustration as he was pulled to sit on the quasi-bed.

Then Oberyn’s hand moved to the lion’s hip, the fingers of his other skimming lightly over Tyrion’s lips before pushing at them, and was met with a questioning multicolored gaze.

“I have no wish to hurt you,” the tall man answered, his eyes dark as he squeezed the hip he still held.

“Do you forget I am a **Lannister** , my _prince?_ ” A satirical grin teased somewhere near his lips, hidden by Oberyn’s fingers.

“Never. But I do not seek my justice against _you._ ”

In response, Tyrion rolled his eyes but relented, parting his lips and taking in the three fingers which probed at his mouth. His tongue wrapped around them in such a seductive way that the Dornishman seriously considered shoving his cock right back into that little mouth - but no, he could wait. It would be worth it to see Tyrion beg, to have the small man tighten around him needily.

Slick fingers slipped from the lion’s mouth, tracing a wet trail down smooth skin until they finally pushed, ever so slowly, into him, with perhaps more delicacy than was necessarily required. A deep sigh, although the gentle exhalation of breath was perhaps closer to a whine, followed. The sensation of being stretched fully burned for only a moment; the digits began to move inside Tyrion, whose fingers dug into the hay bedding of the primitive furniture. His eyes fell shut, head tilting backwards and hips shifting subconsciously forward.

All too soon, the fingers were gone - Tyrion was pushed to the dirty floor, supporting himself on hands and knees, and found himself rolling his eyes at the satisfaction the Red Viper seemed to be taking in teasing him. The remains of his shirt still hung from his body, along with his loosened jacket; Oberyn was behind him, his warmth hot against the little lion, and Tyrion sighed, rubbing back against the older man’s cock - which left a moist trail on his inner thigh - as if to say _hurry the fuck up._

With a gentle pinch to the skin of the younger man’s hips, the Martell leaned over, hand finding Tyrion’s cock and rubbing a rough thumb over the tip as he slid into him with perhaps less difficulty than had been expected. By the gods, Tyrion was hot around him, and tight, too - Oberyn was sure that this little man had rarely been fucked like this, and took some pride in being allowed the privilege. If he had his way, the Dornishman would be the best fuck Tyrion Lannister ever had.

He struck his palm down without even thinking about it, skin meeting skin with a slap that echoed off the cold stone walls; there was a small noise from Tyrion, skin turning an angry and flushed red color as Oberyn rocked slowly into him at indeterminate, tortuously delayed intervals.

At this very moment, Oberyn Martell _should_ have been in his private rooms, or speaking with the Queen Regent (as much as the thought might repel him), or plotting his revenge against Tywin Lannister and the Mountain, or even in a brothel, fucking some whore.

But he was here, in the deepest dungeon cell the Red Keep had to offer, fucking the Lannister disappointment instead. It was a small revenge against the family that had done so many injustices to his own, but it was a delicious one, Oberyn thought as he bit down delicately on Tyrion’s ear. The lion made a noise that could only be described as somewhere between a mewl and a groan, a far cry from the famed roar of his house sigil.

“You’re… quite smug, aren’t you?” The witty little man was panting, swollen lips twitching into a grin as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Naturally. We Dornish pride ourselves on these things.” Oberyn’s response, although positively laced with smugness, was punctuated by a particularly hard thrust into the man beneath him. The little lion dug his claws into whatever crevice of floor he could reach, cock weeping onto the hay beneath him.

“Gods, if you’re going to fuck me, do it properly,” he hissed, voice thick with mingled lust and desperation. It wasn't often that Tyrion Lannister could be reduced to this sort of sexually deprived mess, and so the Viper took pride in his work, taking a moment to watch the efforts of the man beneath him. The blond man tried in vain to grind back against the cock in his ass, groaning in utter frustration as a hand stopped him.

“I **am** going to fuck you. But don't you think it right to ask politely?” There was a teasing note in Oberyn’s voice, a sharp grin toying at his lips as he smoothed the palm of his hand over the shorter man’s back.

“ _...please,_ ” Tyrion ground out finally, face flushed almost as red as his unattended cock.

“Please _what?_ I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.” The Dornishman’s grin was downright predatory now, hand teasingly sliding to squeeze roughly at the little Lannister’s erection. Perhaps in his usual state, with a cup of wine in his hand and his acumen restored, Tyrion would have spat back some witty remark - but not now, not when he was desperate, hard and wanting.

“Please… **fuck me,** ” he growled, raising his head and shooting the older man an impatient glare as he twisted. His knees were aching - cold and filthy dungeons were not the most opportune of places for such interludes - and his body would most likely pain him later, but at the moment the little Lannister lion could not bring himself to care.

“With pleasure.” The thickly accented voice sent a jolt of arousal through Tyrion, and then Oberyn was moving - his grip tight on the little man’s hips as he slammed into him, wrenching a cry of pleasure from the prisoner’s lips. The thrusts came fast and hard, with Tyrion’s cock jerking as he let out another low noise; he felt filled in way he’d never felt before, his throat still raw and every nerve in his body screaming for a release that still seemed far off.

Body rocked by a markedly forceful movement that had mismatched blacks and greens opening wide, his arms buckled and gave out on him, sending the upper half of his body sprawling to the ground; cheek pressed to the dirt and fingers searching for something to cling to, Tyrion was acutely aware of the strong grip on his thin hips, the rhythmic motion of Oberyn’s thrusts, and the electric jolt of pleasure that accompanied each thrust. The Dornish prince pulled him closer, the combined sounds of wet smacks and deep moans soon filling the small room.

A hand darted south to the little lion man’s cock, talented fingers dancing over the slick head and squeezing; his free hand covered Tyrion’s mouth neatly, stifling the low moans that would surely alert the guards. Oberyn’s body was almost blanketing the Lannister’s now, hips moving in lazy thrusts and both hands at work; the sight of this little lion man - usually so sardonic and deliberate in his words - coming undone beneath him was a pleasing one, to say the least.

The small man seemed to be losing himself, face shoved into the stone floor and fingers gripping handfuls of hay tightly as each punctuated thrust pushed him down farther. He’d only been with men a few times before, but he didn’t think he’d ever been fucked this thoroughly, skin sensitive even under his clothes and thoughts falling apart. The stone was cool beneath his cheek, in stark contrast to the sensation of warm and heated breath on the back of his neck.

Then Oberyn’s hand moved from Tyrion’s mouth to a clothed nipple, pinching and reveling in the low moan that followed; to the little lion’s dismay, the Viper stilled in his movements, taking a moment to admire his handiwork.

He thought he heard the dwarf mutter something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like _“you’re a real cunt, you know that?”_ but paid him no mind, dark eyes taking pleasure in the red marks blemishing Tyrion’s otherwise light skin and the currently desperate state the smallest Lannister was currently in.

He pulled him back - the imprint of the cobblestoned floor still red against the pale skin of Tyrion’s cheek - and onto his lap as he leaned against the bed-like structure, cock still deep inside. With Oberyn’s knees up and lap angled upwards, the little lion’s body was open to the air; his breeches (which had previously been tangled somewhere around his ankles) slid from his legs, his back falling against Oberyn’s chest as he sighed in sexual frustration.

Tyrion felt exposed, despite the fact that he still wore a jacket; his cock pressed hard against his belly beneath the remains of his shirt, red, throbbing, and demanding attention. He’d taken women this way, but never at this angle, and never had _he_ been taken like this - he felt slightly odd, legs splayed across Oberyn’s lap and the older man’s hands thoroughly exploring every inch of his smooth skin. There was a chill in the air as it breezed across his body, but he found he didn’t care, each rough movement pushing him up and down with a flurry of golden hair.

Then the Dornishman nipped at the nape of his neck, fingers clawing at the soft skin of Tyrion’s hips, and the little Lannister thought he might finish then and there. Instead, he shifted bodily, grabbing one of Oberyn’s hands and guiding it to his neglected cock. He was rewarded with yet another rough squeeze, the man’s lips at the side of his neck now, licking and biting in such a way that was sure to leave marks. The dwarf’s back arched - his head falling onto his partner’s shoulder in a bounce of golden curls - as he wiggled impatiently, every nerve in his body alight with pleasure and the desire to spill his load.

Oberyn’s hips were crashing into his own at a more erratic pace now, breath labored in Tyrion’s ear and grip tightening on thin hips; the Lannister gave a low cry as a flash of pleasure sparked within, fingers digging into the material of his jacket (which he hadn’t even realized he’d latched on to) and his teeth sinking into his lower lip in an effort to stifle the noises escaping his raw throat. With Oberyn’s hand firmly gripping his cock, thumb rubbing roughly over the slit, and the sudden sensation of heated wetness pooling inside him, it didn’t take long for Tyrion’s orgasm to crash like a wave over him, coming in a series of sticky white streaks across the filthy dungeon floor.

He collapsed gracelessly to the floor once his vision had returned to him, his breathing strained and heart pounding faster than he’d ever thought possible. Tyrion made no move to locate his lost breeches, watching with lust-blurred black and green eyes as the older man calmly tucked himself away, arranging his clothes and getting to his feet before rapping his knuckles briskly on the door.

“ _That_ was not something I expected, but it would really be a pity to die now.” There was a grin on the little man’s cock-swollen lips, and in the torchlight his neck could be seen to be covered in dark red marks that surely would take some time to fade. A smirk and a nod was all he was acknowledged with, and seemingly just as quickly as he’d arrived, Oberyn disappeared, leaving Tyrion spent and with only a pleasant ache to remind him that the entire liaison had, indeed, not been a dream.

The room still stunk of piss and dirt, but an accompanying scent of sex was mingled within, the cell’s hapless prisoner still breathless, watching his own cum drip through the cracks and clutching onto his newfound hope like a fragile butterfly in his hand.


End file.
